Non-Existent Instructions
by Merchandise
Summary: "I don't like liars but unfortunately, I have to be hospitable, no matter how unagreeable the person.But some people are not as kind as I am. If they discover your beguiling nature, your death will be certain. But I cannot interfere, I'm merely the ferryman. Or ferry-woman," she giggled, "Perhaps the next time we meet, I will be ferrying your soul to hell, Mr Riddle." F!Harry,TRxHP
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Nowhere on the non-existent instructions did it say that time turners could not be used by the Master of Death. Having been flung into the past, Haven wants nothing more than something to occupy her time and make immortality a little less bland, as long as she's away from Hogwarts and out of the war. Unfortunately for Haven, Tom Riddle never did like to make things easy for her.

Pairing: Fem!Harry x Tom Riddle

-x-

Once upon a time, there were happy ending.

Once upon a time, half-blood princes got the girls, orphans found families, and the light side always won.

But once upon a time never was.

Once upon a time never will be.

No one knew this better, than the midnight girl who stood under the shade of a weeping willow whose leaves leaned down low to brush soft kisses against the cool grass.

Behind her stood a man with pale skin , pin straight black hair the fell down his shoulders. His eyes were the same wicked black as his hair, the only colored part being the blood red irises.

He looked like the wrong sort.

You know, the kind of man who you'd expect to see in the dead of night, slithering out of a dark alley way. The kind of man that you'd duck your head and walk passed at a fast pace, in hopes of shaking away the dread and fear you'd feel when you saw him.

He had many names, but no matter the language it was uttered in, the name was closely followed by fear, sadness, grief and darkness.

Death.

Murderer.

But there was one name that the girl was fond of and every time she opened her mouth to say it, a small smile would grace her usually emotionless face.

"Mors," she would say, in the familiar tone you would use to address a friend.

Not the tone you'd expect a mistress to use.

They stood quietly, side by side.

Death and his Mistress.

And they would do so for a long time.

And they had done so for a long time.

Death had watched over his Mistress.

Not only during the battle of Hogwarts but in fleeting moments also, he was the shadow in the darkest of alley ways, the paintings in the castle, and through the wicked bare branches of trees in the middle of winter he had watched over his Mistress, silently promising him that a time would come when all she knew was peace.

"What shall we do now?" Haven asked lightly as she glanced down at the casket in front of her.

It had been so long since she had nothing to worry about.

No closet under the stairs.

No exams.

_No Voldemort._

Death stared down emotionlessly at the body of his mistress laying lifeless in the casket. No longer could the mortal body contain her soul. Her soul had outlived her body, unchanging as the years flew by.

"It has been quite uneventful recently, has it not?" Haven continued,

Death blinked, neither agreeing or disagreeing with his Mistress.

Haven frowned at the impassive man before sliding down to sit next to the casket. Her hands slipping into the breast pocket of the vest her soulless body was wearing.

Death clicked his tongue, "You mustn't steal from a dead man's pocket, My Lady."

Haven pulled her hands back when she had the object she desired in her grasp before turning to give Death a kind smile, "I have done no such thing, it belongs to me."

Haven beamed, glancing down at the time turner in her hand.

Ignoring Death's warning, Haven slipped the necklace on and gave the time turner a spin.

"Relax, I only want to go back a few months." She mumbled,

And another.

"It is unsafe."

And another.

"Don't worry."

And an-

It was painful, unbearably so. It was as though Haven was being ripped apart, as though her magic was clawing at her in hopes of finding a way out. A horrifying scream slipped through her lips.

And then it stopped, as suddenly as it had appeared.

Hands flying to her chest, Haven grabbed the chair, tugging it up to look at the time turner.

It was fried.

Smoke rising from the disfigured object.

Well it was useless now.

Haven was suddenly aware of the fact that she was cold, very cold. As she stared up at the sky, something cold fell upon her cheek.

Snow.

Pulling herself up and dusting her cold hands on her jeans, Haven looked around.

It was a muggle community, of that she was sure. It looked like a scene out of an old movie.

Slowly walking over a boys waving newspapers in the air, she yanked one from him, quickly scanning for the date.

September 1, 1945


	2. Chapter 2

"Snow. In September. How does that even happen?" Haven growled, stomping through the snow.

"I advised you not to steal from a dead man's pocket."

Spinning around, Haven looked up at Death, a scowl on her face, "That doesn't answer my question."

Haven could see the glimmer of amusement in his otherwise expressionless face,

"In your time, it was winter. You created quite a rift in time, you should be content that it is only snow."

Crumpling the newspaper in her hand, Haven frowned, "Would it be wise to speak to the Potter family in this time?"

A look of complete bafflement flashed on Death's face, before being replaced by a very small and taunting smirk, "And why would you need to do that?"

"Because I have no money, no home, nothing."

"Do you believe that I am so incompetent that I cannot provide for my Mistress?"

-x-

"Key, please."

The goblin stared down at the girl as she stood on the tips of her toes and whispered,

"The Mors vault can only be opened by the touch of Death."

As his beady eyes widened at her words and almost amused tone of voice, he cleared his throat, "My apologies, it has been a _very _long time since anyone has opened that _specific_ vault."

As the goblin stared down at the raven haired witch, he could only wonder why Death had chosen such a weak looking master. She looked malnourished, she was short and looked as though she would shatter if you grabbed her too tightly.

"I would assume," Haven smiled, a hand casually stroking the midnight coloured snake coiled around her right arm, "Mors is very… independant."

There was something about this snake. The way its dark eyes seemed to dissect everything around it. A feeling of dread chilled the goblin to the bone every time the snake's forked tongue darted out to taste the air.

"Right this way," the goblin said, pushing away from the desk, prepared to lead the girl himself.

Haven followed the goblin closely, confused when they walked right passed the carts.

He led her through tunnels, over and under stairs until they came upon a seemingly simple vault door.

Haven stepped up slowly, extending her right arm, allowing the serpent to slither towards the door.

With merely a brush of his shiny coal coloured scales against the metal door, it began to creak, an old door being opened at last.

Haven's lips parted as she glanced within the vault. Mountains of gold, silver and copper, books that hummed with forgotten knowledge and hid accounts that had long turned to legends. Artifacts of the strangest sort; that oozed magic, neither dark nor light.

Haven gave an unladylike snort, "Bet you stole all this from dead mens' pockets."

She could have sworn that Mors was snickering, though the sound came out as odd hissing.

Turning to the goblin that was studying the serpent, Haven asked,

"How much is in here exactly?"

The goblin seemed to think for a second before saying, "It has been a long time since we've checked...if you return in a week, we shall have an inventory list for you."

Grabbing a few handful of galleons and slipping them into a pouch, Haven nodded, "That would be amazing."

As the goblin led her back out, Haven asked, "Are there any properties tha-"

"There are many properties that are owned by _Mors. _Is there anything specific you desire the property to possess?"

Thinking for a second, Haven said, "Umm...something relatively small, maybe above a store or something?"

"There is one property in Hogsmeade. It is a small space above a bookstore owned by the Mors _family._ I believe that is still in business today."

Haven smiled down at the goblin, "That would be perfect!"

-x-

Death was still in his serpent form, coiled around his Mistress' arm. A look of disgust was on his face as he hissed in parseltongue, It looks horrid.

"I think it's perfect." Haven smiled.

The store was small, the sign faded. It looked like a store that you would always pass by but would never remember the name. Nothing about it was spectacular, but it was just what Haven was looking for. It was completely ordinary.

Pushing through the door, she smiled as she heard the sound of a bell dinging above her head.

There were shelves upon shelves of books. An old man who looked like he came out of a muggle fairy tale ran towards the door. He was skinny, with large white hair and a monocle on his right eye.

"How can I help you, miss?" He asked, a kind smile on his lips made his eyes twinkle.

Walking towards him, Haven held a hand out, pleased that they were relatively the same height,

"I am Haven Po-Mors. Haven Mors."

Recognition flickered in the man's eyes and his smile widened (If that was even possible),

"Pleasure to meet you, Milady. You can call me Bart. I've been taking good care of your store for half a century."

Smiling at him, Haven nodded, "I can see that. I'm here to help you."

Grabbing some of the books from the pile he was holding, she began walking down the aisles in search for the correct shelves.

_If only I could flick my wand a-_

Where is my wand, Mors? Haven asked, when she realized it was no longer in her cloak pocket as it had once been.

The serpent's tongue darted out as it hissed, Grindelwald,

A _ding_ alerted the duo of a customer. From where he stood, Bart had a perfect view of the door and he said, "Well g'day to you. I didn't expect to see you here today."

Haven stiffened when she heard the familiar voice, "Well Bart, I realized you might have the book I've been looking for, for quite some time. So, I rushed over."

As Bart rushed behind the counter, Haven hesitantly turned to face her old mentor.

"And who my dear, are you?" Albus Dumbledore asked, the infuriating twinkle in his eye as he stared at the girl.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, just want to explain a few things;**

**-Dumbledore isn't bad in this. Manipulative, yes. Bad, no. I think there's already enough evil Dumbledore fanfics out there.**

**-Haven isn't Super!Harry. She can't do wandless, she doesn't know occlumency, and she isn't an animagus.**

**-There's going to be a lot of sarcasm in this story…**

Haven couldn't decide how she felt as she found herself staring at the man she had considered a mentor since she was eleven. She had hated him for leaving her alone, for not telling her, for making her hate and curse the man who had watched over her the whole time, believing that he had betrayed Dumbledore. But even with the hatred she felt towards his actions, she couldn't hate _him_.

But of course, this man was not her mentor and Haven was no longer Haven, she had a new title.

They were strangers.

And so, Haven gave him a friendly smile, "You mustn't ask a lady for her name, without offering your own first, sir."

Haven was well aware of the fact that Death had abandoned her, and he watched her from the shadows, in his _real _form, which was neither serpent nor human. It was a form that she had never seen before, and never wanted to.

On rare occasions she would see a silhouette in the shadows from where he watched her. And the dread it filled her with, made her quite certain that she would never want to see Death's real form.

Turning her attention back to the familiar stranger, she smiled when he said,

"Of course, of course. I am Albus Dumbledore."

"Pleasure. I am Haven Mors."

Bard rushed towards the duo, bumping into tables and shelves as he did. Holding a book out towards Dumbledore, he ask, "This one, right?"

Grabbing the book, Dumbledore nodded, "Thank you old friend."

"I'll ring you up?" Haven said, but it came out as a question as she glanced over at Bard for confirmation.

"That would be lovely. It'll be around two galleons." Bard said, walking into the backroom.

Grabbing the book from Dumbledore, Haven walked over to the counter.

Handing the money to Haven, Dumbledore watched the girl curiously as she wrapped the book up for him.

There was something about this girl.

Appearance wise, she looked harmless, friendly. She was short, skinny, there was nothing that would make you remember her, if you were to pass her on the streets, besides her eyes. Her Avada Kedavra green eyes showed what her body language and smiles hid; they housed secrets. For all her grins and politeness, her magic was forceful. Her magic was the first thing Albus Dumbledore had noticed, how it clawed and thrashed, trying to find a way out of her body, as though too powerful to be contained.

He would have to keep an eye on her.

Smiling at the girl, Dumbledore held a piece of parchment out for her, and at her curious glance, he explained,"I require these books. I would appreciate if you would deliver them to Hogwarts later tonight."

Haven's smile twitched slightly as she took the parchment, "Of course."

_Suspicious old coot, I liked you better in the future._

Even though Haven knew that Dumbledore didn't mean any offense, she couldn't help glaring at the man's back as he walked out of the store.

A small laugh from him revealed the fact that he knew exactly how the witch felt, and it was amusing him.

"Well, now I won't feel bad taking the Elder Wand from right under your nose," Haven mumbled under her breath as she started to look for all the books he had requested.

"Maybe...I could try wandless magic," Haven sighed,

Slamming the pile of books in her hand down onto the table, Haven took a few steps back and raised her arm, "Wingardium Leviosa."

The books didn't even budge.

Sighing, Haven tried again, "Wingardium Leviosa."

"Spectacular," Death spoke from behind Haven, "Maybe after you've cried for a few hours, we could buy a wand."

Haven whipped her head around to scowl at Death. While his face was expressionless, the smallest tilt of his lips betrayed his amusement.

"Well, as you can see Mors, I am currently trying to find the books for Dumbledore."

"Were they supposed to materialize from your tears?"

A small laugh escaped Haven's lips, "Maybe. Could you drop by Ollivanders and pick up my original wand for me?"

"My lady," Death bowed, before disappearing.

Haven couldn't help smiling as she continued her hunt. She liked moments like these, she liked to joke around. It reminded her of the time she had spent with Hermione and Ron.

Even though she had watched over them, and had been there beside them as their souls rolled into Death's welcoming arms, she had always missed spending time with them, without worries constantly nagging her.

-x-

Shifting the books to her other arm, Haven continued walking down the familiar halls of Hogwarts, her robes flying behind her as she quickly walked towards the headmaster's office.

She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible and get outside of the school filled with horrible memories.

"Hey you, why are you out of bed."

Haven stilled, slowly turning to face the boy in prefects robes.

There was something familiar about him. He was tall, with curly brown hair and dark eyes.

Here, before Haven stood the same boy from her second year.

Voldemort.

"I'm not a student. I'm bringing books for Professor Albus Dumbledore." Haven smiled politely, hoping to escape the boy's wicked eyes that were currently dissecting her.

Tom Riddle stared at the girl before him suspiciously.  
>Judging by her appearance, she couldn't have been older than fifteen. But her robes had no house crest and so, Tom put on his most charming smile, "I apologize. I believe he will currently be speaking with the Headmaster, follow me."<p>

Tom began leading the girl, quite curious as to how she knew where the headmaster's office was.

Had she been here before?

He studied the girl that was silently walking next to him. There was nothing spectacular about her. Her reason to visit Dumbledore was nothing important. His conclusion was that she was nothing that he would have to worry about.

Haven on the other hand was very amused about how cautious the future Dark Lord was being. While his simple dismissal annoyed her, she simply couldn't take it seriously because the future Dark Lord currently looked like a life-sized Ken Doll, not a powerful and evil wizard.

"It is good to see you again, Tom." Haven smiled.

Tom's eyes snapped to Haven, "Have we met?"

"We will," Haven reassured him,

With a kind smile on his face, Tom asked, "What are you getting at?"

His cold eyes betraying his true intentions, but Haven was having far too much fun. It wasn't like she would be seeing him again.

As they reached the gargoyle, Tom mumbled, "Open,"

As the gargoyle began to turn and reveal stairs, Haven beamed,

"Death is hereditary."

Tom was straining to keep up his kind facade, "What?"

As Haven stepped on the first stair, she turned to face Tom, a predatory smile on her face,

"I mean that Death will always catch up with you, no matter what you do."

Tom could only stare at the girl that skipped up the stairs.

The girl that was more of a riddle than he was.

There was one thing that Haven was wrong about, they would meet again. Soon.

Very soon.


End file.
